The heat

The heat crawled up his leg and itched its way under the hem of his shorts. Childlike, it beat frail fists on his tense muscles, dug beneath his skin, fretted for his attention. He gave it – easily, because there was nothing else to distract him, but he would have anyway. The heat was persistent.

He’d been on the jetty for about fifteen hours. Someone was to relieve him after eight, but had not come, and the phone was indoors and calling for help meant taking his eyes off the water. So he watched the sea and thought about the heat.


I’m off on holiday, so this will be my last story for a short while. Thanks, as ever, for reading and commenting (and if I haven’t yet replied to your comments, forgive me! I read and appreciate every one even if I don’t reply right away). See you in a few weeks! Laura

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